After a moment of silence, a dreadful thought creeps into my mind. What if Mom and Dad aren’t just unconscious? What if… if they’re dead? I scream for Jamal. My horrified face is all he needs to know exactly what I’m thinking. We immediately stop looking for the phones. I rush to Dad’s side and Jamal to Mom’s. It has always been this way; I’m closer to Dad than Mom, and Jamal is the opposite. It seems we are opposites in every way recently.

“Dad, wake up!” I yell. He doesn’t move.

I look at him closely and see how the right side of his face droops oddly. I grab his arm to feel for a pulse, but my hands are trembling, and my heart is beating so loudly in my ears that I can’t tell the difference between his pulse and mine. I try to place my head on his chest to see if I can feel it moving up and down, but the dashboard his legs have been trapped under is in the way. I grasp his head between my hands, about to yell his name, when I see his eyes move slightly; he looks like he is struggling to open them.

“Dad? Dad, can you hear me?” I yell, trying to get a response. He tries to drag his eyelids upwards, but he cannot open them all the way. He tries to speak, but he is spouting gibberish. I grab his hand again, willing myself to stay calm, determined to keep him alive. He’s having trouble breathing, and his speech is impossible to understand.

“It’s okay, Dad, don’t try to talk,” I beg, “Please save your energy.” I look over at Jamal and call out to him. “Jamal, Dad’s trying to speak, but something is wrong. What should I do?”

As he tends to Mom, he yells, “Keep talking to him, Kaila! Make sure he stays awake.” I try to take deep breaths. I keep telling Dad that everything will be okay. I notice how his muscular frame looks insubstantial and frail beneath the weight of the dashboard. As I watch him, I see his body slowly sway back and forth with uneasiness. 

“Don’t move, Dad, stay still,” I cry. His eyes flicker open but appear hollow and unseeing, like he’s in a trance. I feel useless. My hands cup his smooth face as I cry over his shaky frame. I brush away his curly brown hair that has slightly fallen in his face. Nothing is working. Suddenly, his eyes begin to narrow, and his eyelids start to droop as they close slowly. His head weighs heavily in my hands as it rolls to the side. I try to stay strong, but almost immediately, tears well up and spill down my face. I can’t breathe as thoughts of losing my mom and dad flood my mind. 

Suddenly, Jamal’s worried tone wrenches me back to reality. “Kaila?”

I crouch down at Mom’s side, unsure of where to start. She’s bruised by the airbag's impact, her face and arms macerated by blood. Her breathing is labored and ragged, and when I feel her pulse, it’s weak. Her once-caramel skin is now pasty and clammy, her curly black hair matted against her face. I feel helpless as I see the gaping gash in her left arm. I gently lift her off the ground, her frame limp in my arms. I delicately place her at the base of a nearby tree and brush her hair out of her face. I don’t know what else to do. What the hell is a fourteen-year-old supposed to do? I’m so mad, it doesn’t make sense. Why did this happen to us? Why don’t I know what to do? Kaila probably knows what to do. She always does.

“Kaila?” I ask hesitantly, walking around the back of the car.

“Jamal, what if they die? I don’t know what to do. Dad’s dying and I’m sitting here, stumbling around like an idiot,” she sputters.

“It’s okay, we’ll be okay. There must be some way that we can help Dad,” I murmur desperately, “Think, Jamal! Think!” In a stroke of luck, I abruptly remember our phones. We had stopped looking for them, but they were our best option now. 

 “Kaila,” I ask, “What about our phones?”

"You're right, Jamal! But I didn’t find them in the car," she says as her expression vacillates between relief and disappointment. 

My eyes search the ground before I gasp, "Wait! What about Mom and Dad's phones?"

"That's a great idea!" Kaila says, hopeful.

As she looks for our parents' phones, I return to Mom; but I tell myself that all will be okay so long as we can find a phone - any phone - and call for help. She’s not losing much blood at the moment, but I wish I had something to bandage her arm with. The large and jagged glass shards of the windshield, unlike the small pieces of safety glass from the windows, litter the ground around Mom, likely what had pierced her arm. I call out her name, but there is no response. Tears well up in my eyes. The sight of her limp body is too much to handle, and my lips purse in discomfort. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it won’t go away.

Suddenly, Kaila's voice pierces my thoughts and the dense mental fog that had enveloped me disappears. "I found Dad's phone!"

I see a glimmer of hope; we can call for help! I ran over to Kaila's side. She taps the phone once, twice, three times, to no avail. I can see Kaila's lip quiver as her frustration mounts. "What? No! Why doesn't this stupid thing work?!"

My chest heaves up and down. This is my tipping point. I feel my knees buckle beneath me. I hold my head in my hands, softly whimpering as the wind blows and the trees stretch over us tauntingly. Kaila sits down, sniffling and breathing shakily. I feel a cry erupt from my lips, begging and desperate. "Help, someone, help us!" My voice cracks and I want to say more, but my words break up, and all that comes out are stuttering sounds. It won’t help anyway. I swipe at my eyes, but tears come all the same. My breathing is choppy, and my eyes remain watery as I sit unmoving on the leaves and sticks that litter the cold, dirt-filled ground. Kaila rests her head on my shoulder. Even so, there is a distance between us that has been forming for months.

I have no control. My breath is shallow as a throbbing pain pierces my skull and a lump fills my throat. A single tear falls down my cheek, but my body looks calm compared to how tangled my mind is. I find my eyes searching for something to hold onto, stability within the disorienting and traumatic world around us. All of a sudden, an urgency washes over me, and I quickly brush the tears from my face, feeling different; I find comfort in a new calmness and confidence that had not been there seconds before. I’ve read about this; in survival situations, a victim’s amygdala activates fight or flight mode, and they can harness a sense of control. Is that what’s happening to me? I look for Jamal, wanting to comfort him and tell him, “Hey, it’s okay,” or “We can figure this out,” but he’s gone. “Jamal?” I call, but no answer. “Jamal?!” I yell again. I need to let him know that I understand what to do. My heart is pounding, but my confidence is unwavering. I know that we can help Mom and Dad. “Jamal, I know what–” I did not finish. I hear the leaves crunch beside the car, and then he emerges, holding a small first aid kit.

“I found this in the trunk,” Jamal says. I hadn’t even heard him get up. In all the chaos, I forgot we were on a camping trip. All of our camping equipment and clothes are in the trunk. “Kaila, we can save them; we can save Mom and Dad,” Jamal says, exuding a similar confidence that had eluded both of us mere moments earlier.

“I know. I know,” I say, “Go help Mom, and I can help Dad.”

Jamal goes over to help Mom while I run over to Dad and see that he is barely breathing. I know I have to get him out of the car, but Dad is six feet tall and weighs almost two hundred pounds. I know I will not be able to move him on my own. “Jamal, can you give me a hand real quick?” I yell, “I just need to get Dad out of the car and onto the ground.”

As Jamal comes to the back of the car, I ask him how Mom is doing.

“She’s okay; I’m using the ripped clothes to cover her wounds and stop the bleeding.”

Jamal slides his arms underneath our dad and behind his back. I wrap my hands around his calves to safely slide his legs out from under the glove compartment. Jamal slowly and carefully moves Dad’s limp body out of the car as I gingerly move one leg at a time from underneath the misshapen glove compartment. After placing him down, Jamal returns to Mom’s side to continue bandaging her wounds. Suddenly, his breathing changes, sounding even more ragged than before. It only gets worse as the seconds pass. I take Dad’s hand in mine and check for a pulse. I scream to Jamal, “Jamal, I need you, now! Dad can’t breathe and I don’t know what to do!” I gasp in horror and shock. 

Hastily placing my ear to his chest, I realize that Dad has stopped breathing. I see Jamal come over with worried eyes and in an instant, he knows what has happened. I look to him, despite our differences and he nods in reassurance, giving me the strength to try and save Dad. Shakily, I place my hands on his chest. I straighten out my arms and start compressions and Jamal rushes to my side. I am terrified that I will press too deep, but then again, what if it isn’t deep enough? The presence of Jamal beside me helps me push through even as the sun beats down on my back and sweat drenches my forehead. I know that I must continue, and I kneel beside him and press with desperate motions. Jamal checks for a pulse as I count out loud, praying that he will feel something. I need Dad to be okay. After seemingly-endless pressing, hopelessness seems to set in as Jamal holds Dad’s hand and silent tears rush down his face.

“Please, Dad, please don’t leave us. We need you and Mom to be okay,” I say, almost as if he can hear me.

At that moment, Jamal exclaims loudly as his fingers rub Dad’s wrist, “There’s a pulse! It’s faint, but I feel a pulse, Kaila. He’s alive.”

It's like we can finally breathe as Jamal and I watch as the soft rise and fall of Dad's chest returns. I sigh breathlessly, exhausted from the compressions, and collapse onto the ground. Tears of relief and happiness stream down the sides of my face as Jamal’s words echo in my head, “He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive…”

It took a while to finally convince myself that Dad was okay and get out of my state of panic, but after taking a moment to calm my breathing, I retrieve the remaining strips of cloth that I used to help Mom and wrap up my wrist, which must have been hurt in the accident. I go over to Kaila, still lying on the ground in exhaustion, and she looks up at me with tired eyes. 

"Can you help me up?" She lifts her arm loosely, and I grab her hand, pulling her up off of the ground.

"Are you okay?" I ask, "Well, considering everything?"

"Yeah, I think I'm fine," she responds as her eyes look down. "But hey! What happened to your hand?" she questions, seeing the bandages wrapped around my wrist.

"I think that I sprained it," I sigh, "I’ll be fine." 

After I patch up a few deep cuts on Kaila’s arms and face, she watches over Mom and Dad while I rummage around the car looking for food. Unfortunately, I only find a single granola bar and a bottle of water from the day's trip. I also take out the sleeping bags and blankets we planned to use on our campout.

My dad starts to stir and I run to his side.

"Can you hear me?" I ask. "Dad, please wake up," I beg.

"Jamal?" he asks in the weakest voice that I've ever heard, "What happened?"

Kaila comes up behind me and exclaims, "Oh my god, Dad, I'm so glad you're awake." 

Dad smiles weakly and I explain how we ran off the road. All of a sudden, I hear my stomach begin to roar audibly. I realize that we will have to forage for food and water so we don't starve. Thank God for all that pre-season soccer training, I think to myself. Hopefully, it’ll help me be more prepared for the days ahead.

"I guess we'll have to try to find food and water in the woods," I say, "But one of us should stay behind to start a fire and keep an eye on Mom and Dad."

Kaila volunteers to start the fire and tend to Mom and Dad while I head out to find food and water. I didn't realize how much time had passed in all the chaos. The sun is already starting to droop toward the horizon.  

"Dad," I say, "I'm going to head out to gather some materials we need for the night. I'll hurry back."

"Please be careful and stay safe," Dad pleads before slowly drifting back to sleep.

I watch him for a moment and as my eyes run over his frail body, I feel determined now, more than before, to try my hardest to help Mom and Dad to get the help that they need. I grab my bow and arrows from the trunk of the car. Dad, Kaila, and I had planned on hunting on the camping trip. Well, probably just Dad and me, since Kaila was ‘too grown-up’ for that now. She never did anything with us anymore. I can use the bow and arrows to ward off any wild animals in the woods. I check in on Mom and Dad, hug Kaila, and start to make my way through the dense woods.   

I gather nuts that litter the ground and pick berries along the way. I also fill up the two refillable water bottles that I brought along with me with water from a running spring. I carefully search the landscape and analyze the woods around me. “Where on Earth are we?” I ask myself and I breathe heavily, exhausted from the day's events. I know I must return to Mom, Dad, and Kaila quickly. Kaila will probably know where we are, considering she knows every fact on the face of the planet. I feel guilty for even thinking that, but something about this whole experience has made me so frustrated with her. I take a deep breath and remain steady as I navigate the rugged terrain back to the site.

While Jamal ventures into the woods to find food and water, I grab as much kindling as possible. I also see some extra logs to set around the fire so we will all have a place to sit. Before I build it, I create a rock barrier around where everything is set up so that a full-blown wildfire doesn’t start. I realize that building a fire will be complicated, but for some reason, this traumatic experience has almost unlocked the things that my dad taught me when I was little. It then comes to me and I know what to do; a pyramidal structure should work using the logs and twigs I found, and I can fill in most of the holes with the newspapers my mom brought. As I catch a glimpse of the familiar grid-shaped pattern, I recall the day before our trip. 

* * *

“Mom, I’m sure there’s still reception in Nebraska. If we get bored, we can play the crossword on our phones,” I said as we walked from our home in San Antonio to the general store a few blocks away to buy some newspapers for the trip to Nebraska.

“Well, that defeats the whole purpose of this trip, doesn’t it? We’re supposed to be going camping so we can unplug and bond as a family,” Mom explained in a tone one would use to explain to a five-year-old why two plus two equals four.

“We can bond as a family and stay very much plugged in,” I said sullenly, realizing how much I sounded like one of those moody teenage brats, as seen on every sitcom ever.

* * *

My stomach clenches in regret as I snap back to reality, and after constructing it, I quickly take a spare twig and roll it between my hands on top of a larger piece of wood in hopes of taking my mind off the guilt of my actions. I roll it faster and faster until the friction finally becomes enough, creating a spark, and the larger piece of wood catches fire. I surprise myself, in disbelief that it worked. I know I went through a Hunger Games phase when I was younger, but not enough of one to turn into a real-life Katniss Everdeen. I guess it doesn’t matter right now anyway, so long as I can help to keep us warm throughout the night. I lay two more pieces of wood on the twig structure and watch as it ignites into a medium-sized campfire.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” I hear my mom ask weakly from behind me.

“Mom! Are you okay?” I spin around quickly. “You should have called for me, walking around like this isn’t a good idea, at least until your head has time to heal. Come sit down,” I gesture to one of the logs, “Is Dad still awake?” I ask, anxious.

“Yeah, he drifted in and out a few times but he seems more awake now,” My mom says as she sits by the fire and warms her hands. She’s slurring her words a little, which tells me that her head injuries could be worse than Jamal and I had originally thought.

“I’m gonna go check on him real quick. Don’t wander off,” I don’t need her hurting herself or getting lost before I can properly assess how bad the damage is.

As I pass by the car, I hear Dad’s familiar voice, “Hey, kiddo. How’re you holding up?” Dad asks, as though I’m the one who almost died.

Regardless, I respond, if only to make him feel some sense of normalcy, “I’m doing okay, Dad. How about you? Do you need anything? 

“I’m alright, thanks. You should go sit with your mom. I promise I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles. Typical of my dad, he’s making a joke out of the fact that he could have been paralyzed for life.

Before I make it to the woods to check on Jamal, I see him walk into the clearing holding a small bag full of nuts and berries as well as 2 bottles of water. He seems kind of frustrated, but I don’t know why.

“Dinner, anyone?” he asks.

When I get back to the car, I run to Mom. Color has been restored to her face. She still looks weak, but knowing Mom is alive is the best thing in the world. I’m still mad at Kaila for bragging about how much she’s read, always making references to books and talking about all of the different things that she knows; she probably can’t wait to bombard me with all of this stuff that I don’t know about and rub in her smarts as if I don’t have enough to deal with already. As the sun begins to set, we sit around the fire Kaila built while I was gone. Despite my annoyance with her, I am still amazed at our self-sufficiency. I take some water and food to Dad and sit with him. I’m not sure what to say, so I start telling Dad how excited I am about the upcoming soccer season. After a while, Kaila and Mom come over to sit with us. I notice that Kaila seems upset, but I attribute that to our stressful situation.

“I guess we should probably get some sleep,” I tell my mom, dad, and brother after having eaten dinner. My parents need rest, and I’m exhausted.

Jamal and I go around to the back of the car and open the trunk.

“It’s a good thing we were going camping because, otherwise, we wouldn’t have warm sleeping bags,” Jamal says somewhat hopefully. I decide that it would not be sensible to point out that if we hadn’t gone camping in the first place, we would have never driven on this road, seen that deer, or hit the massive oak that our car is currently stuck against.

Instead, I reply with a nonchalant, “Yeah, good thing.”

​​We go open the trunk of the car to retrieve our sleeping bags, knowing that it will get cold at night even if it is relatively pleasant now. Jamal helps to get Mom and Dad situated while I roll out the sleeping bags. I place them just close enough to the firepit, now filled with glowing embers, that we can feel a small warmth from the fire, but not so much so that a spark could land on us. After some discussion, Jamal and I make a deal to sleep in shifts to keep watch and I am grateful to sleep first. We all settle in for the night, and before I know it, I fall fast asleep.

Kaila and I agreed that we would sleep in shifts so one of us could keep an eye on Mom and Dad at all times. I took the first one, and as everyone drifts off to sleep, I keep my bow and arrows close beside me as I eye the landscape for any danger and beside me toward Mom, Dad, and Kaila. Halfway through the night, I tap on Kaila’s shoulder.

“Psst! Wake up Kaila,” I whisper, and she groans groggily. “Come on,” I persist, knowing that I’m responsible for gathering food and water in the morning, “Let’s go.” She sighs and finally gets up, waving her hand dismissively, and at last, I crawl into my own sleeping bag. The stillness of the night is calming and before I know it, I am transported to the abyss of my dreams.

All too soon, the sun begins to rise and I can feel the warmth of its rays on my face, but the cool breeze still sends a chill up my spine. Kaila has fallen asleep and I get up slowly so as to not wake anyone and decide to head out to gather nuts and water a little early.

I arrive back to see Kaila’s angry face staring at me.

“Good morning,” I say cooly, “I left early to gather some acorns and water to prepare for the day.”

“So you just leave?! You should have left me a signal. I know you think you’re better than me at this stuff because you play soccer and you’re athletic, but I know a lot about survival,” she exclaims. 

“Just because you’ve read about it in books doesn’t mean you’re the great survival expert. Whatever, sorry,” I spit back.

“I started another fire to keep us warm,” Kaila responds defensively, “And I found something.”

“What is it?” I ask, concerned.

“An old map in the glove compartment,” she says, “and I figured out where we crashed by using it.”

“Really?” I ask, “So, where are we?”

“Well, according to the map, we are about twenty miles away from a town named Elmdale.” 

“How do you know?” I ask, as I never knew that she could read a map. She probably read it in some book somewhere, as always. I barely hold in an eye roll. 

“Look here,” she says, “This is the road Mom and Dad said we were on right before we crashed.” 

I remember Mom mentioning that we were twenty miles away from the lunch stop, which she had plotted out on the route. I thought she meant she had looked at them on Google. I didn’t know that she had mapped them out.

I look at Kaila in surprise. I could read the map. How could that be? Why wasn’t I able to read a map before today? All the symbols, features, and landscapes would drive me crazy. I remember when Dad tried to teach me how to ‘thumb the map’. It meant that you should put your thumb on your present location and turn the map until you see what’s in front of you. My problem is that I can’t tell what’s in front of me. Dad always said that I am too dependent on technology and could get lost on my own street. Now, I could read a map. Take that, Kaila.

“That’s good,” I say, “Now we just have to get to Elmdale.”

* * *

With our bags packed with plenty of food, water, and tools, including a rope and blanket we packed for our vacation, Kaila and I get ready to go on a long and exhausting hike when, suddenly, we hear a shout from behind us. I immediately turn around, looking for a crumpled body, a pool of blood, or any sign of danger, but instead, I see Mom stumbling toward us. I can see tears streaming down her face.

“Stay safe, you two. If you don’t come back alive, I don’t know what I’ll do,” Mom says through her tears.

“Mom, we left some berries for you, and plenty of water. If it rains, which I don’t think it will, make sure that you and Dad get in the car,” I instruct carefully. We wave goodbye, and with that, Kaila and I start the treacherous hike to Elmdale.

* * *

“This hike is much harder than I anticipated, Kaila,” I say breathlessly. 

“Yeah, I know,” Kaila replies, gasping for air as she tries to keep up. Seems like books didn’t prepare her for long and hard physical activity. “I feel like I’m going to fall with every step. My legs are a mess from all of these tree roots and branches, and I hate touching all of the moss that’s coating the trees. The only thing keeping me going is Mom and Dad.” 

“I know what you mean, Kaila. I don’t know what I would do if we didn’t have Mom and Dad. Speaking of, I’m not sure how to explain it, but after all of the horrible things had happened, all of a sudden everything miraculously changed and I had this awareness and clarity,” Kaila is silent. “It made me feel like a superhero,” I say, looking back to see if she is within earshot. I might be bragging a bit, but I was also curious to know if she had been feeling the same.

Her nonplussed expression bugs me for some reason before she replies, “Oh yeah, I forgot to mention it to you, but I think we’ve been experiencing something similar to many trauma victims. Your amygdala initiates something called fight or flight. I’ve read about it-”

“Oh my god, Kaila! Stop with all the book talk! I get it: you're smarter than me; no one said you had to brag about it!” I shout. She makes me feel so dumb. Still, I feel awful when I see the hurt on her face. But the hurt quickly changes to anger.

“Well, did you ever think how it would hurt me for you to go bragging to Dad about your awesome soccer life?! You know I wish I was as athletic as you! Do you know how hard it is to see all the athletic popular girls at school and to always be known as ‘the nerdy girl’?!” She retorts. I never knew how much she was going through, but that doesn't mean she doesn’t have to consider my feelings. I can’t believe that this is what we’re arguing about right now.

“Maybe if you didn’t just ignore me all the time, I could have been able to help you. God, Kaila, for as smart as you think you are, sometimes you can be so brainless!” I scream.

“Well, if you hadn’t pushed me away and replaced all of your priorities with sports, you wouldn’t be so stupid!” she shouts in an angry rage. I know she didn’t mean it, but that stung more than anything else. I’m about to respond when I hear the faintest rumble of thunder in the distance. Nononononono. This cannot be happening. We still have at least two hours of daylight left. We CANNOT afford to lose that precious time. I’m still upset at her, but we don’t have time to be mad at each other.

“Kaila, we have to go faster.” I say, in a clipped tone, “We need to make as much of what daylight we have left before that storm hits. If we can make it another mile, we’ll reach Elmdale by midday tomorrow.”

“Whatever you say,” Kaila says irritably.

We both pick up the pace with the frightening feeling that Mom and Dad’s lives rest in our hands, combined with mutual anger at each other. We walk for about a half hour, the thunder getting brutally closer with each passing minute. Only having walked for ¾ of a mile more, Kaila and I are suddenly bombarded by buckets of heavy rain, falling in sheets all around us.

“I THINK WE SHOULD SET UP CAMP FOR THE NIGHT!!” I yell to Kaila, in order to be heard over the thunder. I see her nod in agreement and we both dash into the forest beside us, relieved to be under the cover of the trees. We’re both soaked, despite how little time we spent out in the rain.

We quickly find the nearest sturdy tree. I throw the rope over the lowest branch on the tree and pull both ends of it towards me. I can feel Kaila’s anger radiating off of her from behind me.

As I tie one end of the rope around Kaila, I give her instructions: “Now, you pull yourself up while I hold this end, and once you’re up, I’ll tie this end around myself and climb up after you,” 

“I know, Jamal! You don’t need to mansplain everything,” she says while rolling her eyes.

“Me, mansplain? You’re not even a guy and you mansplain more than I do,” I hiss.

“Can we just get up in the tree?” she murmurs.

After we’ve both gotten up into the tree, we take the blankets out of our bags and wrap them around ourselves. The sleeping bags were too bulky to go in our backpacks, but we can make do with blankets. We should probably huddle closer to keep warm but that is not happening right now.

At the sight of her upset face, I realize that this competition between us is pointless. I can’t take it anymore; all the distance that’s been building between us for the past year or so comes crumbling down around me like the Berlin Wall. I realize what I have to do and I turn to Kaila. The storm calms for a moment, almost as if it wanted me to talk to her.

Abruptly, I hear Jamal’s voice through the storm, “Kaila, I’m sorry. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and you should be proud of yourself. It’s just that I feel so stupid when I can’t keep up with you in a conversation,” he says sadly.

“No, Jamal I’m sorry,“ I find myself saying, “I don’t want you to feel like that at all. Do you know how amazing of an athlete you are? It was just that when I was little, I was too ‘boyish’, so when I stopped doing stuff like fishing and archery, I thought that all of my problems would be solved. Then I wasn’t athletic enough. It’s such a Catch-22,” I admit. At that moment, I realize that Jamal and I are more alike than we know. I wrap my arms around him tightly, finding comfort in this closeness that I’ve missed sharing with him, and for once, everything seems okay.

* * *

Just before dawn, I wake with a start, hearing a snapping sound below us. I look down in fear but quickly realize that it’s just a squirrel. Jamal and I are still huddled together for warmth. I shake Jamal awake so we can start to head on our way.

We’re on our way to Elmdale just as the sun begins to peek through the trees; while the difficulty of our hike doesn’t change, it is so much easier now that the hostility between Jamal and me has dissolved. Every once in a while, we stop for a drink of water or snack, and by 2:00 PM, we reach a sign that reads ‘WE C ME  O  LM ALE’.

“Uh-oh,” Jamal mutters as he and I look around at the deserted one-road town. There’s no sign of life in sight. A wave of panic washes over me. 

Clearly, this town was deserted long ago, and we’ve hiked all this way for nothing. But before I can get a word out, Jamal begins to freak out: “Kaila, what are we going to do? We’ve hiked all this way and this is our last chance to help Mom and Dad and now there’s not a-”

I cut him off midsentence, “Wait. Do you hear that?” In the distance, the soft sound of laughter and music echoes through the air. It almost sounds like a party.

I motion for Jamal to stay quiet and follow me. We are guided by the sounds of joy to the end of the road and we turn left. Instantly, we are greeted with a small town park and 50 or so people milling around, chatting, laughing, and dancing. Everyone in town must be here, considering that there wasn’t a single soul out on the streets. Twinkle lights are strung up all around and a live bluegrass band is playing on a slightly elevated stage towards the far side of the park. We slowly approach, hoping not to cause a big fuss, but as soon as we enter, everyone stops and looks at us.

After a moment of silence that feels like an eternity, several people rush up to us at once.

“Who are you?”

“How’d you get here?”

“Are you lost?”

One little boy even asks, “Are you… aliens?”

I look down at myself and then at Kaila. Both of us look like we’ve been hit by a semi-truck. Before we could answer or ask for help, the crowd separates, and I could see a kind-looking woman, maybe 35 years old, with short brown hair running toward us. When she finally reaches us, the corners of her eyes crinkle in worry, and I can tell we must be cut up even worse than we thought. She gave us a quick look up and down before she started to speak.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Erin. May I ask how you got those nasty cuts?” she inquires soothingly.

“We were in a horrible car accident about 20 miles away. We’re mostly fine, but our parents need help,” Jamal blurts out.

“We left our parents in the woods where we crashed,” I continue, breathless, as tears stream down my face. “Our Mom has a deep cut on her arm that probably needs a few stitches and our Dad could barely breathe after we pulled him out from under the collapsed dashboard. They were both conscious when we left, and I know we’re not supposed to leave them, but it was our only option.”

Without blinking an eye, Dr. Erin calls out for assistance.

“We don’t have a formal hospital here, but I do run a small family practice. I can take my car to the crash site and I’ll call the hospital in the nearby town on the way so they can send an ambulance\. Come on now,” she spouts. “James and Henry, you follow behind me,” she hollers to the two men that came out of the crowd.

Jamal and I use the map to show Dr. Erin where the crash site is located, and two cars pull up. Dr. Erin signals for us to get in her car. 

1 WEEK LATER

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Mom says to Dr. Erin graciously as we leave Elmdale.

After Dr. Erin, Jamal, and I got Mom and Dad back to Elmdale, they needed minor surgery but were not as bad as they could have been. Jamal and I were so relieved that we collapsed on the waiting room couches and slept for hours. Neither of us had gotten very good sleep over the past 3 days, and Dr. Erin kindly let us rest.

As we turn to leave, I embrace my parents and brother and tell them, “I love you guys so much. I don’t know what I’d do if-”

“I know. Me too,” Jamal cuts me off, knowing exactly what I’m thinking.

After having been through so much, I feel closer to my family than I thought possible.